Arkham believed in people. He believed in life; he believed in death. He believed in tangible things, and he believed in the logic. But he did not and had never believed in any god because the things Gabriel had told him then had seemed more like stories than anything else. They were fables and myths, the same as what he occasionally read in books; they were things that people could derive meaning from, but not things to truly believe in. The younger man furrowed his brow and frowned. A voice. He wanted to laugh. If there really was a god, why should he need individuals to carry out his bidding like minions?
He wanted to tell Gabriel that he was crazy, just like the rest of them. Just like Samael, just like Andre, just like every other brother they had, just like their parents. But that and laughing wouldn't change anything at all. He told you to destroy hundreds of people's homes. He told you to put everyone you care about in jeopardy. He told you to kill. Why? And for what?
Arkham felt anguished, angry, upset. He had known that no matter what Gabriel told him, that it would be upsetting, but knowing didn't change anything either. It felt so stupid and so simple. A voice in your head; ignore it. God gave no explanation because he didn't have to. Why should he? But why shouldn't he if he was really there? Why do you listen to him?